


follow the light (it will lead you home)

by Hililmissy



Series: Crossover Pairings & Fic [2]
Category: Charmed (TV 1998), Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Height Differences, I am an Adult and can do what I please, Jinchuriki - Freeform, No Charmed knowledge necessary, OC is technically an AU of a character who dies as a foetus, Roshi Needs All the Hugs, Self-Loathing, The Author Regrets Nothing, There is some angst here, Yes I am making AU fanfiction of my own fanfiction, but the ending is hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22360858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hililmissy/pseuds/Hililmissy
Summary: The true reason Rōshi had never sought out his soulmate boiled down to this: he could not imagine being loved and cherished by another. Could not picture someone seeing him and all he had done to survive in this world and saying "you are what I want." His own self-acceptance was hard-won and grudging, a thing of necessity. He did not want to look into eyes meant to love him and see horror.Soulmate AU of And in The End (A New Chance Appears)Not necessary to read that work.
Relationships: Roshi/OC, Roshi/Payton Halliwell
Series: Crossover Pairings & Fic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606411
Comments: 1





	follow the light (it will lead you home)

**Author's Note:**

> The only excuse I have for this is that I wanted to do it, and I'm not hurting anybody. This piece is unrelated to my other Roshi/Payton work, but does assume some commonalities: that Roshi is Onoki's eldest son who became a jinchuriki at the second Tsuchikage's urging, and that his maternal grandmother was an Uzumaki. Once again this is only a crossover in that Payton is from that universe, so no Charmed knowledge is needed.
> 
> Soulmate AU: On one day of the year, you can see a coloured wisp who represents your soulmate and it will lead you to them if you are close enough.

Rōshi slumped on the wooden bar, rubbing a hand across his face. _What a shitshow. Damn Ōnoki._ The Tsuchikage had summoned him back to Iwagakure for some supposedly ‘urgent business’ – and promptly refused to see him until after the Finders Festival. Which left Rōshi stuck in the village that had stopped being home the day they’d stuck the Yonbi in him. _Since when has the old man been so sentimental anyway?_ Blearily, he spied the mostly empty bottle of sake he’d ordered and drained it.

With the Festival going on, the bar was all but empty, what with everyone chasing the coloured wisp that would lead them to their soulmate, one person designed by fate or destiny or the gods or circumstance (depending on your worldview) to complement, cherish and love you. At least it meant he wasn’t bothered here, and could avoid all the people out there chasing fulfilment.

Personally, Rōshi had a mixed view on soulmates. The fact that, at eight, he hadn’t developed a wisp that signified that somewhere in the world there was a person meant to match him had been one of the reasons that bastard Mū had proposed him the ideal vessel for the Yonbi. A weapon with no outside loyalties. That’s what they’d wanted. Jinchūriki were always weapon first, shinobi second, and human being last of all, if the last part wasn’t ignored entirely. And he’d seen enough of the tragedy when soulmates from different villages had to fight against each other in the second and third wars.

So when at twenty-three he’d happened to glance at his left shoulder and see a glowing, yellow wisp fluttering there, he hadn’t known what to think. Heck, only his ninja training had spared him from burning himself in his campfire. He hadn’t realised that it was Finders Day, though it had explained the distracted nature of the few people he’d encountered.

And every year since that one, on that one day of the year, it appeared: bright yellow-orange, like a flame, twisting slowly over his shoulder. He’d gotten used to it. It was comforting, in a way; a personal, visual reminder that he was in fact human, a person. That he was someone theoretically likeable, which was easy to forget in the isolated and ostracised life of a Jinchūriki. He’d never told anyone about it, and he’d never gone looking for them.

It was easy to justify in the beginning, if there had been anyone to justify it to. The fact that it had only then appeared meant that his soulmate had only just been born, and Rōshi was not about to go chasing after an infant. The only child he’d ever really interacted with was Kurotsuchi. Besides, it was creepy – and Rōshi was a lot things, had done a lot nasty things in war and outside of it, but he drew the line at being creepy to kids. You had to have _some_ standards.

As the years passed and his soulmate got older, he’d still felt no real urge to find them, though he’d much less willing to explain _why_ to someone.

But what it boiled down to was this. Rōshi had enough self-awareness to realise that he wasn’t what anyone would consider a catch: he was irritable and abrasive, with little tact or social grace, little passion or wonder about him with his bloodied hands and battered soul, his humour was dark and often at others expense (he had little else to be amused about), and he was a Jinchūriki: hated, isolated, with all his potential political and social status exchanged for potential power. A weapon for Iwagakure. Anyone bound to him would also be bound to the demon monkey. Plus he was nearly fifty, past his physical prime but still alive due to stubbornness and the bijū within him, whereas his soulmate was in their twenties, with many years ahead of them (he hoped). Whoever his soulmate was, they could do better than him. People could lead happy lives without their soulmates. He was doing them a favour by staying away. He’d take the once-a-year comfort of the wisps presence (and maybe, _maybe_ in his bleakest, most isolated moments wonder _what if?_ ), but he wouldn’t inflict himself on them.

He turned his gaze to his left shoulder now, to take in a little of that comfort in what had become a crap day – and blinked, startled, when he couldn’t see it. In all his extensive travels, the wisp had never left its post on his shoulder, meaning that he’d never been close enough to his soulmate for it to lead him to them. He lurched to his feet (he was drunk, but even in Iwa – which should have been home and as close to safe as a ninja could feel – he’d never felt comfortable getting hammered enough he couldn’t fight or run if need be) and his mind swirled. _Were they dead? When had it happened? How? Had his soulmate really died before him – before he could see them, learn their name, figure out why his wisp was flame-coloured?_

He was yanked from his pessimistic thoughts by a sudden yellow swirl. There was his wisp, dancing as if excited at the entrance to the bar. It seemed to call _they’re here, follow, follow, follow._ He watched it for a few, too quick heartbeats before doing so. Alcohol-induced stupidity, he’d probably blame. And the resounding echo of the terror that had filled him when he’d thought that his wisp – his soulmate – was _dead_. Dead before him, when he’d always assumed the opposite would occur. He was older, his life filled with conflict and hardship. Not knowing anything about his soulmate had been fine when he’d known there was a soulmate to _know_.

But now, with the last of that horror still clinging to him, lengthening his stride and quickening his pace, he knew that he had to see them. He strode through narrow alleys to the busy main streets. People moved out of his way, some with hard scowls and others with fond smiles. The former recognised him, the latter only recognised his purpose; there was only one reason for such a determined pace on Finders Day. He ignored all them, eyes set on the swift yellow spark. It danced ahead of him, twisting this way and that way and growing ever brighter.

To Rōshi’s mild surprise, it didn’t lead him to one of the booths set up for the festival. Instead it floated up the stepped entrance of Iwa’s main library. He followed. The lighting inside was subdued after all the torches lit outside. Like the bar Rōshi had spent the day in, it was deserted. His wisp headed straight for one of the restricted sections, indicated by the red tape marking the floor. A sign designated it the fūinjutsu section. _Or not so deserted._

Rōshi couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in this building. Even when he’d lived in Iwa, the vast majority of his training had been physical, the theoretical elements explained by hard-mouthed tutors than by books or scrolls. He cast a glance back to the entrance before continuing after the wisp. It whizzed down one of the rows and was met by another wisp, this was red-orange.

Rōshi watched, almost enthralled, as the two wisps danced together, merging and twisting through each other in perfect harmony. It was impossible to imagine being so in tune with someone. He was so caught up in the display that a sharp, triumphant cry had him readying his hands into seals as he turned the voice’s owner.

 _His soulmate._ A young woman stood over a desk littered with scrolls. She wiggled excitedly, completely oblivious to his presence, as she crowed “It worked, it worked. I knew it! Suck it, Professor Adams!”

Rōshi quirked an eyebrow. This had to be his soulmate. They were the only two people here, and you could only see two wisps: your own and your soulmates. She seemed about the right age too. He let his hands fall as he took her in. He couldn’t spot a hitai-ate. _A civilian?_

“Oh, that’s beautiful.” Rōshi blinked, startled out of his worries at the implications of his soulmate being a civilian. She had turned towards him and was watching their wisps intricate dance. She levelled a soft smile at him that made his heart thud.

“Are you doing that?” She asked, stepping towards the display. He frowned.

“No,” he replied gruffly. Clearly, she hadn’t realised what was going on, and she had to be a civilian if she thought it was ninjutsu.

The woman had a befuddled expression as she moved closer, examining the two lights. Her eyes widened in recognition.

“Hey, that’s my wisp… So that must be… your wisp. Wait, it’s Finders Day?! No, no, wait not important. We’re – we’re soulmates?” Wide brown eyes stared into his as she sought confirmation. He inclined his head, and they widened further, giving the woman a rather deranged appearance. She cringed and Rōshi grit his teeth, shoving down the bitter hurt that rose in him. He should have expected this response; though he was aware of the age difference, there was no way for her to know. She probably expected someone around her age.

“Oh man.” She murmured wretchedly. “I haven’t slept for at least thirty-six hours. I haven’t showered. I don’t even want to _think_ about how I must look right now.”

He blinked and amusement replaced the hurt. He made a show of dragging his gaze over, noting the greasy but thick dark hair, the purple shadows under her eyes. She was a good head taller than himself, and had an absolutely stunning pair of legs. _You’re beautiful._

“You look fine.” He told her, voice rough. The mild distressed expression she had sported transformed into a smile that stole the air from his lungs.

“I definitely don’t.” She disagreed warmly. “But thanks. You look pretty incredible yourself. I love your hair, such a beautiful colour.”

Rōshi was most definitely _not_ blushing.

“Get it from my grandmother.” He told her, unsure how to deal with compliments. It wasn’t something he had experience in.

She opened her mouth to reply when her stomach rumbled thunderously. She gathered up her books and said “I know it’s like three in the morning, but would you like to get some food with me? I’m starving, but I really want to talk more with you. I’m so happy to meet you, did I say that? Something to drink would be good too, as long as it’s not that awful Iron Bru stuff. It’s a tourist thing right, get the foreigner to drink this terrible concoction that they’ll be able to untaste. Untaste, that’s a real word, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I swear I’m not usually like this. I think I’m exhaustion-drunk.”

She was still nattering as she led him out of the library, but Rōshi couldn’t bring himself to mind. He followed her, warm, amused and closer to content then he’d felt in a very long time.

“Hey,” he interrupted, not able to stop himself. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, my name is Payton. Payton Prudence Halliwell-Turner. What’s yours?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Bit of a mouthful. I’m Rōshi.”

She sent that breath-stealing smile at him again.

“It really is so good to meet you, Rōshi. Thank you for coming to find me.” Her voice was soft and subdued, but the words lodged in him like a strong blow.

The true reason Rōshi had never sought out his soulmate boiled down to this: he could not imagine being loved and cherished by another. Could not picture someone seeing him and all he had done to survive in this world and saying “you are what I want.” His own self-acceptance was hard-won and grudging, a thing of necessity. He did not want to look into eyes meant to love him and see horror.

But Payton’s eyes, in her frequent back glances at him, were warm and a little awestruck and full of possibilities that Rōshi alone could not have imagined.

He’d seen his soulmate, he’d learnt her name. He didn’t yet know why the wisp that represented her, still dancing harmoniously with the orange-red one that represented him, was yellow-orange, but he was looking forward to figuring it out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I could have kept going with this (them eating takeout and chatting in Payton's temporary apartment, Payton falling asleep on Roshi and them making him breakfast/brunch/lunch later that day, Roshi realising he's laughed more in the last two hours than he has in the past two years) but there's only so much pointless fluff you can write before you need some kind of actual plot. And I am Bad at plot.


End file.
